Frontier
by Radi0.Hazard
Summary: An exile from the Brotherhood of Steel meets a charming idiot from Vault 101. Adventures ensue. Rated M for eventual squickiness.


**Author's Note: Alright! Since my last one-shot managed to pique the interest of a couple of readers, I've decided that that's more than enough of a reason to begin writing a full-fledged story. Before I begin, let me state a brief disclaimer: While the first few chapters of this story may **_**seem**_** like a novelization of the events of Fallout 3, those who read onward will begin to notice an increasing divergence from the original storyline. ;D I'm not going to give away any secrets as to how this story ends, but… Let me just say that it won't end where it started.**

**Also, I've decided to try something new for my stories: Chapter soundtracks. Since a good background song can make reading more entertaining, I'm going to suggest songs that accompany the tone of the chapter. These songs will be from varying sources, including other Fallout games. Speaking of other Fallout games, you should keep an eye out for references. There will be more of them as time goes on. Now, let's begin.**

**Chapter Song: Fallout 2 OST – World Map With Car**

**Fallout and all related properties belong to Bethesda, etc.**

The wild dogs had been following her for the last mile.

Gloria reached up to remove her helmet. The pneumatic seals of the T-45d suit's collar hissed and whined, accompanied by a distinct _whoosh_ as the sealed air within her suit depressurized. What little hair the Ghoul had left swayed in the distinct, howling breeze that the Capital Wasteland was known for.

In front of her, there was a small puddle—So small that she probably would have walked right past it, had she not been looking for water in the first place. Kneeling down, the mutant dipped a trembling, rotting hand into the puddle. The water made her skin (or what was left of it, anyway) tingle and itch, a clear sign of its radioactivity. For once, Gloria was glad to be a Ghoul. She lifted her hand away from the puddle, pressing the palm of her hand against her lips and drinking what little water she had managed to collect.

It tasted like shit, of course, but Gloria wasn't picky when it came to survival. The water, warm from basking in the sun for who knows how long, cascaded down her parched throat. The woman let out a sigh of relief. The last time she had a drink was… Two days ago. At Wilhelm's Wharf, to be exact. The last time she had tasted purified water, however, was over one year ago. Those assholes at the Citadel had sent her out with her T-45d armor and a few bottles of water.

"Parting gifts," They had called them. "For all of your dedicated service."

In the end, though, that _dedicated service_ didn't mean shit. Gloria stared at her reflection in the puddle, and scowled. Patches of long, wispy, dark hair trailed from her rotting scalp. Her forehead was wide and flat, adding a sharp contrast to her chin, which was small and delicately pointed. She no longer had a nose; instead, her sinuses were completely exposed to the elements. Her eyes, once a vibrant shade of sky blue, had long since gone dull and milky.

The exile was distracted from her self-inspection as she heard more growling and panting. The wild dogs were growing impatient with waiting for her to die, and they seemed to be deciding to take the matter of their dinner into their own paws. The three of them rocketed towards her, barking furiously as they bared their teeth in expectation of a kill. Gloria quickly reached for the Ripper at her side. There was no use wasting her ammo on something as simple as a pack of dogs.

The canine nearest to her leaped towards her, aiming to tackle her to the ground. The ex-Knight activated her Ripper, and let out a snarl of her own, intercepting the wild animal with a swift jab to its throat. The Ripper sliced through the flesh and bone of the creature's neck and decapitated the dog with ease.

Gloria turned to face the other dogs, which were now circling around her. She neutralized one with a swift kick to its side. Her T-45d-enhanced kick cracked several of the dog's ribs, sending it to the ground with a weak howl. She turned to the third dog—Only to find that it was already scampering off with its tail between its legs. Pleased with how the conflict had turned out, the Ghoul turned and deactivated her Ripper. Gloria retrieved her helmet; however, she neglected to put it back on, choosing the open breeze of the Capital Wasteland over the stale air contained with the Power Armor.

Megaton was just a short distance away. She could see it on the horizon, partially hidden from her view by an outcropping of rock. Gloria reached down to her belt, where a small bag of bottlecaps jingled as she walked. It had taken her forever to scrounge up this much dough from killing raiders and slavers, but now she had enough to buy her own place. At least, she hoped so. Gloria hadn't done much research on the available properties of Megaton. A small smile tugged at her cracked lips as she quickened her pace. After a year of shuffling around, she would finally find a place she could once again call home.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by a sudden, harsh screech. The Ghoul instinctively reached for her Ripper, looking around with widened eyes. Whatever that sound was, it was unlike anything she had ever heard before. It sounded like the scraping of metal on metal. She stood in place, waiting to see if the sound would once again make itself heard so she could pinpoint its origin.

There! The sound echoed from a nearby cliff wall. Gloria squinted at the rocks, trying to pinpoint anything that seemed out of place. Her gaze fell upon a storm door, battered by the constant onslaught of the Capital Wasteland's dusty breeze. She stared at it expectantly, waiting for something or someone to emerge from it. Eventually, her waiting paid off. The storm door opened, and a man stumbled out—And immediately covered his eyes with his hands.

"… Holy shit," Gloria muttered, as she noticed what the man was wearing. It was a blue jumpsuit, with yellow lines going up the middle and curving around the collar. She watched the man wander near the entrance for a moment, and caught a glimpse of a yellow number on his back: 101. So,there _were_ people living in Vault 101. She had read something about it on the Vault-Tec computer in the Archives at the Citadel, but beyond that, its status had remained unknown to her.

She watched the Vault Dweller for a moment longer. He continued to stumble along, reaching out with one hand to feel his way along while covering his eyes with the other. Gloria shook her head, and mumbled.

"… Fucking kid's not gonna last long, wandering around like that."

She wasn't entirely certain why she was referring to him as a kid. He probably wasn't much younger than she was. Nevertheless, he stood about as much of a chance in the Capital Wasteland right now as a newborn baby would. After a moment of deliberation, the Steel exile began to shuffle up towards him. A part of her scolded her for reaching out to help this Vault Dweller; after all, she had her own problems to worry about. Growing up as a member of Elder Lyons's Brotherhood of Steel, however, had conditioned Gloria to look out for the other inhabitants of the Capital Wastelands.

"I'm going to hate myself for this, I just know it…" The Ghoul sighed.

As she approached the Vault Dweller, he stopped stumbling around, instead opting to squint at her. He began to wave at her; however, as she got closer and he got a better look at her, he instinctively stepped back.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to _you?!_" He asked.

Gloria quickly turned around and began to go back the way she came. Fuck this bastard. If he didn't want her help, then she wasn't obliged to give it. She grumbled under her breath about the Capital Wasteland's widespread bigotry, leaving the startled Vault Dweller behind.

Said Vault Dweller immediately felt a pang of guilt for what he had said to her. Who could blame him, though? She looked like a _zombie_. But then again, maybe _everybody_ in this area looked like that. Gross or not, he was not about to refuse assistance. So, he quickly pursued her.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, wait…!" He called as he caught up to her. "I didn't mean to be such a dick to you, okay? I'm just a little spooked. Would you mind helpin' a guy out here? I'm lookin' for someone…"

His pleading tone of voice was enough to make Gloria feel sick; however, it _did_ managed to convince her to rethink abandoning this guy in the middle of the Capital Wasteland. She turned towards him, and regarded him curiously. His skin was light, probably from spending all of that time underground. His hair was long, black, and slicked back over his ears, and a soul patch dominated most of his chin. His appearance was neat and trim, and Gloria couldn't help but stare at him. In the dusty, shitty Capital Wasteland, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He wouldn't last a minute without her help, that was for sure.

"What's your name, eh?" Gloria asked. She wasn't going to keep thinking of him as "kid".

Always glad to strike up a conversation, the Vault Dweller answered without skipping a beat. "Call me Roland," He replied. "So, if we're exchangin' names, mind tellin' me yours?" Roland held his hand out expectantly, accustomed to greeting people in Vault 101 by shaking hands with them.

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, taking one last moment to decide whether or not Roland was trustworthy. After a moment, she sighed and shook his hand.

"The name's Gloria. Welcome to the Capital Wastelands, Roland. Now, wipe that stupid fucking smirk off your face. If you want to live, you're going to do exactly what I say. Otherwise, you'll be a Deathclaw's breakfast by tomorrow morning."

Author's Note: Whoo! Done with the first chapter. Let me know what you think about it.


End file.
